Ebony & Ivory [H.S]

Forty-Seven

"Just stop your crying, it's a sign of the times. Welcome to the final show. Hope you're wearing your best clothes"

Standing back to look at myself in the mirror, I don't know the girl standing before me. She's wearing a pretty dress, her make up and hair are styled beautifully, though I've never felt more unlike myself. I stare endlessly into the mirror, hoping to find something blatantly obvious for what has caused this sense of detachment within, but I realise what's wrong with me is not what's there, but what's not. Harry.

How can any of what happened be real? How could he so suddenly decide that I'm so wrong for him? That he doesn't love me. I'll never quite forget the look of despondency he displayed, and how his words contradicted the deep sadness he was showing, betraying himself. How I hoped and prayed it would be some kind of sick, morose kind of joke. Though the only joke here is yourself.

I hear my name being called by Celia, and reply back to her quite dully.

"In here."

I hear footsteps, and then suddenly, Celia is by my side once more. She hasn't strayed further than a few feet from me since the end, and although it's comforting to know she's there for me, I feel like it's important for me to have some time alone to myself.

"Darling, I was worried," she gushes, circling me to observe my outfit. "You are just... once again I'm very blown away."

"Thank you," I return quite blankly, though I honestly feel like I have nothing more of myself to offer her anymore. It's been taken from me.

It's important I look my best this evening, and that he sees me wearing the dress he especially chose for me. He's going to turn up wearing his almost matching suit, and everything will be right in the world. He just has to.

"You do know that you don't have to go, right?" she reminds me for probably the eighth time this evening. "There will be many more New Year's parties that you'll have the pleasure of attending, and it's quite understandable if you don't turn up."

I know what she wants to say. She doesn't want me to go because of Harry. Understandably, she wants me to keep my distance from him, but she didn't see the look on his face when he ended things. She doesn't know our love like I do. She doesn't get that there's a reason. A reason that hasn't revealed itself, but a reason I intend to find out and rectify.